


Timestamp: Obscurus Books, 2000

by lyonet



Series: Do We Live [7]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyonet/pseuds/lyonet
Summary: “It may astonish you to learn,” the tour guide said, sweeping out an arm to keep them from continuing, “that two of the driving forces behind the success of this proud British institution were in fact Americans. Porpentina Scamander – ”Hermione raised her hand. Harry and Ron exchanged a despairing look.“Excuse me,” Hermione said, “I think you’re referring to Tina Goldstein, who also started the American liberal newspaper Firebrand? She uses her maiden name professionally.”





	Timestamp: Obscurus Books, 2000

**Author's Note:**

> I said the series was complete, and it is, but...I _also_ said I might write timestamps if I got the right idea. So here you go. This is set in 2000, two years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

The tour group assembled at three in the courtyard outside what had once been a factory and was now named, via a handsome brass plaque, as the Obscurus Publications Museum. It was a crisp autumn day, yellow and red leaves tumbling down the street and through the gutters on a changeable breeze, and everyone was eager to get inside. At the front of the queue was a girl in her late teens, wearing her bushy brown hair tied back from her face. She was reading a brochure with intense scrutiny.

After a few minutes, two boys came jogging up with three paper cups of coffee. “Hey, Hermione, sorry that took a while,” the red-headed one said. “Harry ran into one of his admirers.”

“Shh,” the one in glasses hissed, eyeing the line behind them nervously. “Shut up, Ron.”

“Did you know that the first book examining the wizarding world’s historical connections with Christian theology was published by Obscurus Books in 1948?” Hermione said, taking her coffee without looking up from the brochure. “First editions are very sought after by scholars and collectors. I wonder if they’ll have the more recent print run for sale inside, it sounds fascinating.”

“Looks like we got her birthday present bang on the money,” Ron said, with satisfaction. “She’s ignoring us and everything.”

The tour guide appeared then, Apparating on the steps and unlocking the doors with a tap of his wand. “Welcome, wizards and witches, to this very special guided tour of the original Obscurus printing house. When the founders first opened their doors in 1920, they were a little-known source of obscure academia and it seemed unlikely they would last longer than a few years. As many of you may already be aware, Obscurus Books is today the largest publisher in the wizarding world. Come inside and I will tell you the secrets of their success.”

The group filed in through the tall wooden doors into a large foyer with displays of the more famous publications set up under glass and a gift shop off to the side. Hermione looked around with shining eyes like she couldn’t decide what to look at first, then zeroed in on the nearest display. “Oh, Ron, _look,_ ” she gasped. “It’s a first edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , from the very first print run!” As they watched, the book slowly flipped through pages of faded text and delicate pen and ink illustrations. There were framed sections of yellowed newspaper under the glass as well, with an explanatory note beside them reading, _The Daily Prophet columns written by Mr Scamander from the mid 1920s through to the late 30s, as collated by his wife._ Hermione pressed in as close as she could to read them and made an unhappy sound when the tour guide announced they were moving on.

“You can come back and look at them later, you know,” Harry pointed out.

“I do know, but it’s so _interesting_ ,” Hermione groaned, tearing herself away. “Newt Scamander is considered to be the father of magizoological conservation, and you can really see the development of his ideas here, I wish I’d seen these before I wrote my essay on him for History of Magic!”

“Hermione, that was _six years ago._ ”

They moved on to the factory floor, preserved with all the machinery still in place, and then upstairs to the old office areas. There were a series of handsome portrait frames in place along the hallway there, but each one was empty.

“It may astonish you to discover,” the tour guide said, sweeping out an arm to keep them from continuing, “that two of the driving forces behind the success of this proud British institution were in fact Americans. Porpentina Scamander – ”

Hermione raised her hand. Harry and Ron exchanged a despairing look.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said, “I think you’re referring to Tina Goldstein, who also started the liberal newspaper Firebrand? She uses her maiden name professionally.”

A pair of stylish old ladies at the back of the group tittered quietly into their hands. The tour guide looked at Hermione with surprise and obvious dislike. “Thank you for that…contribution. Obscurus ran into serious financial difficulties towards the end of Grindelwald’s War – World War II to the Muggleborns among you. It seemed likely to close its doors forever until the intervention of Percival Graves, former Director of Magical Security at the MACUSA and a celebrated, if controversial, war hero. Please step this way to see Mr Graves’ office, restored to the way it would have looked when he was working here in the late 1940s…”

“Wow, he must have been a cheery bloke,” Ron remarked, a bit too loudly, looking around at the dark panelling and black leather. Harry went over to look at the cabinets of strange instruments, smiling when he recognised a few of them from Albus Dumbledore’s study. Hermione, however, went straight to the desk, which had been set up with parchment (which American wizards had rarely used at the time, it ought to be paper), a bottle of ink and an elderly eagle-feather quill that had obviously seen much use.

Arranged in a corner of the desk were two photographs. The first was a black-and-white picture of a handsome young man and a very beautiful girl in old-fashioned robes, laughing at the camera as if they had not a care in the world. The other one was in a sepia studio portrait of a man in his late thirties or early forties, pale face surrounded by dark hair that only partly softened the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He gazed out at Hermione with steady dark eyes, his mouth quirked at the corner in a very slight smile.

A third, much larger frame hung behind the desk. As with the ones from the hall, it was empty.

“…notorious in the 1920s as the Obscurus of New York,” the tour guide was saying, when Hermione tuned back in. “Some historians have hypothesised that Mr Barebone changed his name in order to escape his past, taking on the respect and prestige that came – and of course still does come – with the surname Graves. His historical treatise _To Hell and Back_ was the first work published by Obscurus Books after the change in ownership. It was personally edited by Porpentina Scamander with a foreword by none other Bathilda Bagshot. Barebone co-authored a series of children’s novels later in life with Queenie Kowalski, published under the pseudonym Hope Baker and notable as the first wizarding works to feature a Squib protagonist, and he served alongside Mr Graves as a volunteer Auror in Grindelwald’s War. They retained a close friendship throughout their lives…”

“Excuse me,” Hermione said against, determinedly polite. “I understood they were lovers.”

“Well, really, there’s all sorts of speculation.” The tour guide waved an irritated hand. “At this point it is likely we’ll never know for sure – ”

“In his surviving letters, Percival Graves addresses Credence as ‘my beloved, reckless idiot’ and tells him ‘come back to me whole, damn you’. He also kept a photograph of him on his desk and permitted him to use his last name.”

“As I said,” the tour guide said firmly, “the two men were very close friends. Styles of language change over time, Mr Graves grew up in a more effusive era.”

One of the old ladies, who had been gazing doubtfully around the room, started to giggle uncontrollably and had to be assisted into the hallway by her companion. The photograph of Credence Barebone rolled his eyes and mouthed at Hermione, _stay._

The tour moved on. Hermione stayed.

“What’s so interesting?” Ron demanded, wandering over. “Are you getting bored? I am.”

“Shut up, Ron,” Hermione said distractedly, patting at his arm.

“I should find out what some of those devices actually do,” Harry mused, coming up on Hermione’s other side. “I wonder if people still use them or if they’re antiques. Like a gramophone.”

“There is nothing wrong with gramophones, young man,” said a woman’s amused voice.

The empty room in the frame behind the desk had suddenly filled. The woman who had spoken had golden curls and wore a sparkling flapper dress, her arm looped through that of the short, beaming man beside her. On her other side were the two men from the photographs on the desk; the first one much older and second much younger, both elegant in evening wear, arms around one another’s waists. As the woman continued, “I must admit, though, I’d have gone _wild_ if they’d invented CDs in my day,” three more people walked into the picture, each of them instantly recognisable: Newt Scamander, Tina Goldstein and Seraphina Picquery, all dressed for a long ago party, holding glasses of champagne.

“Is that guide gone yet?” Tina asked. “I can’t stand him, why couldn’t they keep the one from last year? She said my name right.”

“Ms Goldstein,” Hermione breathed. “I’m _so_ honoured to meet you.”

Tina looked at her for a moment, blinking, then smiled. “Oh, I remember hearing about you. They put wanted posters up everywhere a few years ago, I saw your face. It’s a pleasure, Miss Granger.”

“Did he really call me effusive?” Percival Graves said disbelievingly. “I have never been effusive in my life. I said what I _meant_.”

“Thank you for sharing your prestige, dear friend,” Credence murmured. Graves turned a _look_ on him and Credence laughed.

“Who are these people,” Ron said.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. “You don’t know who they _are_?”

“Nope,” Ron said, unembarrassed. “No offence,” he added to the people in the picture. Picquery raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I can’t believe this,” Hermione fumed. “Harry? Tell me _you_ know who they are.”

“Ah,” Harry said. “Not really.”

“ _Honestly_ ,” Hermione said, exasperated. “When you first told us that you could speak Parseltongue, obviously I started researching unusual magical abilities, and one of the most interesting examples I found were Obscurials. It’s almost unheard of for one to survive as long as Credence Barebone did.” She blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Credence Graves.”

He smiled at her. “I was very lucky. I found the right people to help me.”

“And a natural Legilimens is extremely rare too, let alone one as powerful as you.” Hermione turned, wide-eyed, to Queenie. “I have so many questions. Is it all right if I take notes?”

“Sounds to me like you know a lot about us already, honey. Though between you and me, that Romeo and Juliet spiel they go through about me marrying a No-Maj? Poppycock. We got married. We were happy.”

“We had our moments, princess,” the man beside her remarked mildly.

“We had six kids, Jacob. We’re _allowed_ some moments.”

"And you're Seraphina Picquery," Hermione said, clasping her hands. "I can't believe it. I know all about your achievements, of course, the educational reforms you got through, the change in law regarding Muggle Obliviations - "

"That one was hell to pass," Seraphina said. "So lucky I didn't give a damn by that point."

Something very small scuttled across the bottom of the frame and clambered up Newt’s trouser leg, up his jacket to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Pickett,” Newt said seriously, and leaned around Tina. “I’m sorry, you three, but the tour guide has noticed you’re missing. He’s coming to find you.”

“Oh, no!” Hermione said miserably. “There was so much more I wanted to ask!”

“You could always come back,” Tina pointed out.

“Though we’re usually in the copy of this picture that’s hanging in Newt’s house,” Graves added. “So you should probably make an appointment with the Credence on the desk there. Who I was definitely married to, by the way.” He looked over Hermione’s shoulder, serious face softening, and added in a disgruntled undertone, “ _Effusive._ ”

Hermione brightened. “An appointment! Yes! I’ll do that.”

“I hope you know what you lot are letting yourselves in for,” Ron said. Hermione smacked his arm hard and got out her notebook to confer with the Credence on the desk, who was covering his smile with a hand over his mouth.

The group in the photograph gradually dispersed, Newt and Jacob wandering off in conversation, Queenie joking with Tina and Picquery. Graves stood near the edge of the frame, waiting for Credence, who lingered where he was.

“They said a lot of things about me,” he began. “Some of it is true and some of it isn’t. Wizarding history didn’t remember my little sister. She was a No-Maj, and a codebreaker in the war. She saved lives. Percival’s was one of them. The illustrations in Newt’s book, downstairs, were done by a Squib called Ling. She was a friend of Tina’s, and she should be as famous in the wizarding world as she is for her work outside it.” Credence looked around the office with a sad smile. “Everything has changed so much. A lot of it for the better, I think, in the end. Look at you three, look at what you fought for. Just remember something, when they talk about us.”

He stood up then, walking to join Graves, and took his hand. “We lived,” he said simply. “And it was hard, but we had each other.”

The door opened abruptly and the tour guide chivvied his three stray tourists out of the room with impatient admonitions. He’d picked up two more wanderers on the way – the old ladies who had laughed. Hermione glanced at them, then looked again more closely.

“Effusive,” one of them said, in a clear American accent, and giggled again.

“Queenie,” the other one said sternly. She caught Hermione’s eye and held a finger to her lips.

“Oh, it’s okay, Teenie.” The woman smiled at Hermione, as warm as she had in a photograph over seventy years ago. “You take care, honey. Keep fighting the good fight.”

They walked off together, away from the tour, arm in arm. Queenie was still laughing.


End file.
